


Through the Good or Lean Years

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: All the family cliches, Coulson and Cal bonding, Coulson needs a little assistance, Coulson's injury, F/M, Family Dinners, Fishing Trips, Post Season 2, Skye and "Cal" angst/fluff, Skye and Cal bonding, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3983803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the season finale. Skye and Coulson recover from their respective losses in the finale, working out their complicated relationship with each other in the process. </p><p>AKA Three things Skye's father taught her, and one thing he taught Coulson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just really love Cal. And Skoulson. And Skoulson & Cal bonding.  
> Title from "All the Way" by Sinatra.

Skye’s knuckles rapped against the door lightly, and she peered down the hall. Billy had come running down in a rush, apparently he had messed up a shipping order for the garage and had to put out some fires (not literal, thank God.)

“Where’s--” she began to ask, watching the panicked man hurry by.

“His bunk,” Billy called over his shoulder. “He might need help-- sorry!”

And he was gone.

Skye knocked again, wondering if Coulson was doing okay. It had been a little over a month since Simmons cleared him, but it seemed like he had been pushing himself to get back to business. There was work to be done, as always, and he didn’t want to wait.

If anyone was allowed to take time it was Coulson, she thought, pushing away the unwanted image of him sitting in the quinjet, white and covered in blood. She had been so terrified, in a way she hadn’t been since the explosion that nearly killed Mike and got Coulson kidnapped. It was almost worse, because even though he was breathing and there and alive, it was possible he wouldn’t be in the next few minutes, he could have bled out.

Interrupting her thoughts, the door to his bunk opened, and an annoyed, then _extremely_ surprised Coulson stared at her.

“Uh, hey,” Skye said awkwardly, making as much eye contact as she could given the circumstances. _Where are your clothes?_

Okay, she was exaggerating, but while she had seen Pajama Coulson (not great given the alien writing circumstances,) and Workout Coulson ( _that_ was a doozy,) and even Hospital Gown Coulson (just the front,) this was...weird. In a way she wasn’t quite comfortable thinking about.

“Skye,” he replied carefully, looking as dignified as he could in an unbuttoned shirt and holding his pants up with one hand. Even his sling was missing so far, a bit jarring considering he had refused to let anyone see him without it since he began to heal.

Skye wondered if he would ever talk to her about that. Or Andrew. She’d be happy either way. Realizing Coulson was staring at her, a questioning look on his face, Skye shook her head. “Oh, right, sorry, I was coming by to ask-- May said she was taking a weekend? If there was anything you wanted me to help with while she and Andrew are--” she raised her eyebrows. He didn’t look amused. “Yeah. Anyway, and Billy said you might need help?” She was careful not to get caught looking, but could see him slowly, almost casually put his left arm behind him, out of her sight.

_Someone really should talk to him._

“I’m not sure what he meant by that,” Coulson told her, but Skye sighed, trying to be as kind as possible.

“Really? No idea?” She looked pointedly at his visible undershirt (she wouldn’t embarrass him by pointing out the undone pants,) and he let out this sad little frustrated noise that hurt her chest.

“You don’t have to--”

“Come on, Coulson,” she chided him quietly. “It’s nothing, I can help.”

Reluctantly he moved from the door, which Skye closed behind her. Was his room really this small? It was bigger than hers, certainly, but with the door shut and Coulson standing there and his bed taking up most of the floor space, it felt decidedly cramped. Taking a breath and putting on a game smile, Skye put her hands on her hips. “Okay, what’s first?” She would think pants, to get that out of the way and throw him a bone, but realized that would make tucking his shirt in much more difficult. “Shirt?” She asked, and he nodded, not quite making eye contact.

_This doesn’t have to be embarrassing_ , she thought, but she couldn’t say it. Skye didn’t want to tell him how to feel; it wasn’t helpful and it wasn’t her place. So she simply started at the top button and made her way down, focusing on the task at hand. Last button done, she looked up and grinned, a bit strained. “We good?”

Luckily, Coulson seemed to get that his discomfort was making Skye feel worse, and he sent her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

Skye smiled back, genuine this time. _How long has it been since I’ve seen a real smile on this guy?_

The answer was ‘decidedly too long.’

“So, next we…” she gestured to the bottom of the shirt. Pursing his lips, Coulson carefully let his hand drop a bit, lowering his pants. Skye assessed the dilemma. As it was, Coulson would be holding his pants and she would have to reach around his entire body, tucking the shirt in. _There has to be a less awkward way of doing this_. “Ah,” she began carefully, speaking like she would to a deer that might bolt. “I think this might work best if I…”  not wanting to waste time or make it weirder asking him to say it, she grabbed the sides of his slacks, holding them by the belt that was already through the loops .

Her face had to be at least as red as Lola at this point, but she kept a pleasantly neutral expression on her face. She had to make this easier for him, not harder. At last, Coulson picked up what she was putting down, letting her hold his pants as he used his hand to tuck the shirt in. _See? Just some regular old teamwork. Working together with the common goal of putting your pants on_. This moment of camaraderie and understanding gave her a false sense of security at that point, quickly and efficiently buttoning the top of his pants without problem and fastening his belt. It wasn’t until she reached down and pulled up his zipper that Skye realized her mistake. Coulson inhaled sharply, practically jumping away from her. Pulling away (she had, without thinking, slipped the fingers of her left hand under the waistband of his pants to zip with her right, idiot,) Skye held her hands up.

“Wow, I’m so sorry, that’s--” _Shit, what did I just do?_

_Well Skye, you pretty much just violated your boss._

“It’s fine,” Coulson said tersely, but still standing apart from her. “I just--I can do that part myself.” Skye nodded, her face burning. She stared at the floor, wondering what the hell she had been thinking. A hand on her shoulder startled her out of it. Coulson was watching her, looking apologetic.

“Skye. It’s fine. You were just trying to help.” He hand dropped, and he turned to the desk to grab a tie. He handed it to Skye, who smiled relieved. She draped the soft fabric around his neck, then froze. She looked at the two ends she held aloft, but made no move to tie them. “Skye?”

Skye looked up, and saw Coulson’s concerned _(and really blue. Were they always that blue?_ ) eyes. Sheepishly, she laughed a bit. “Would you believe that I do not actually know how to tie a tie?” The director raised his eyebrows, looking both amused and curious.

“Really?” Skye shrugged. “Here,” Coulson told her, grabbing one of the ends from her. Slowly he directed her through it, doing the other himself. She wasn’t sure if it was the intimacy of the moment (somehow more intimate than zipping his fly) or his soothing voice or just the fact that it was really difficult, but Skye could not retain one lick of the process.

“So these aren’t in your skillset?” Coulson asked, and Skye didn’t let the proximity of his voice  throw her. She shook her head.

“Nah, Miles wasn’t exactly a tie-wearing type of guy,” she answered, noticing that Coulson seemed to be breathing through his nose now. Maybe using her ex-boyfriend as an example for this scenario wasn’t the best choice. But who else would she have done this for? Her-- _oh, right_. She cleared her throat. “I was thinking about taking a drive tomorrow. If that’s okay,” she said carefully, noting the thoughtful look on Coulson’s face.

“Of course,” he told her, and she murmured her thanks. It had been awhile since her last visit, and the forecast was looking good in Wisconsin.

Feeling like they might actually be nearing the end of the ordeal, Skye nodded towards the tie. “Kind of involved, isn’t it? You do this every day?” Coulson smirked, not answering and resumed giving instructions.

Indicating for her to hold the end while he tightened the knot, she felt Coulson sigh. The process was finally done. Skye let out a breath she had been holding for God knows how long. Gesturing to the suit jacket laying on the bed, Skye looked at him questioningly. “Do you want me to--?”

“No, I can do that,” he told her, and she nodded.

“Right, well, I’m going to--”

“I’ll get some of May’s recent projects together, if you want to take a look. You can probably help with some of the research aspects, do some digging online while she’s gone.” Director Coulson was back, pulling his injured arm through the sleeve of his coat, then letting the fabric settle on his shoulders.

Skye wondered what it was like. Losing a part of you like that.

She wouldn’t ask, not if he didn’t want to tell.

“Sorry I couldn’t…” she gestured to his neck, and Coulson reached up to unnecessarily adjust his tie. He shook his head.

“It’s no problem. Agent Koenig should be all set tomorrow, so you won’t have to do this again.” She knew it wasn’t meant to, but the comment kind of stung.

_This was humiliating for him, Skye, of course he doesn’t want it to happen again._ Nodding, she headed toward the door. Maybe she was all riled up, but she could have sworn she heard a soft ‘thank you’ from behind the closed door.

***

“Looks like you should be all set, let me just…” Skye trailed off, watching the little icon in the corner of the monitor. “And...on the eighth day he said, ‘let there be wifi.’” Looking up from the screen, she saw Cal-- _Dr. Donald Winslow_ , smile.

“I guess I had to join the 21st century at some point, hm?” The clinic had been closed for over an hour, the receptionist long gone. The doctor still had his white coat on, holding one of the clinic’s resident cats in his arms. The other sat on Skye’s feet, under the desk.

“I know, change is scary, but look at it this way: now people won’t notice if you don’t replace the old magazines.” ‘Don’ chuckled, then reached in his pocket to take out his wallet. “Ah--nope, you know how I work,” Skye chastised him, and he sighed.

“From what I hear, you typically get paid for this, you know, to make a living? Without your intervention I probably would be using an abacus and typewriter after my modem crashed.”

“That would be the ‘server,’” Skye corrected, a quirk to her lips, “and really, I don’t mind.” She questioned whether it was smart for her to enter Cal’s life like this, a regular visitor. Worried it might trigger something in him. But so far it wasn’t a problem, she hadn’t seen even a glimmer of recognition (or madness) in his eyes. He truly was a different person. So was she, to a degree. Daisy Johnson, IT consultant and animal lover. Skye had managed to “run into” Cal a few times around town, until the point that the two were friendly. She mentioned she was good with computers, which, really, was all a young person needed to tell a guy Cal’s age to get access to every electronic in his possession.

His server had indeed crashed, and after recovering his data and helping him set up a new backup plan, she had successfully wiggled her way into her unknowing father’s life. It was incredibly bizarre, he was _Cal_ , but _wasn’t_. Maybe he was the Cal from before, the one who joined Doctors Without Borders and delivered babies. He was kind. Wacky, but kind.

He had tried to pay her numerous times to no avail; Skye had (mostly)managed to convince him that she didn’t need payment, that she traveled so much for work she didn’t have much of a home base in the small town. The company was nice. “Plus you have cats here,” she had told him, playing with said cats after setting up dual monitors for reception. “And my apartment doesn’t let me have any pets. I’m doing it for them, really,” she deadpanned. It was usually enough for him.

“I really feel like I shouldn’t be getting all of this for nothing,” he worried, and she stopped him.

“Actually, I have a favor I was hoping to ask you for,” Skye said, and his eyes lit up with curiosity and relief. “How often do you wear a tie?”

***

Not often, it seemed, but enough that he at least knew how to tie one, and could teach her. After no small amount of time, they sat in the lobby, a Van Gogh tie around his neck and a Bugs Bunny one around hers. It seemed like all of Dr. Winslow’s ties were novelties, but hey, they worked the same way. Skye sat on top of the reception desk, fiddling with the tie around her neck.

“Seriously, how do guys have the patience to do this every day?” She spent time on her eyeliner some mornings, sure, but this was like a Rubik’s cube to her. Except she was good at solving Rubik’s cubes, so, bad example.

“Not sure I know any guys who wear them every day, not anymore,” Cal mused. He dangled his own tie at the orange reception cat, who batted at it, annoyed.

“Well, I do, so this was a big help, thank you,” she told him sincerely, and he grinned.

“So, this _guy_ \--”

“Ahh, that discussion is _so_ not on the table.”

Cal shrugged, holding up his hands in a ‘mercy’ gesture. “Just curious,” he said.

_Eh, what the hell._

“He had...an accident. About a month ago,” she said, as matter-of-fact as possible. The doctor’s brow furrowed in concern. “He’s fine, mostly, just can’t do some things he used to. On his own.”

Cal nodded. “And he is a...man friend?” Rolling her eyes, Skye caught his cheeky glance.

“I work for-- _with_ him. And we’re, like, friends. And if it’s not me doing it for him it’s his assistant Billy who can be a little...much.” She didn’t mean to be unkind, but Skye figured Billy would forgive her, she was rambling a bit.

The visits were nice, but the constant need for a convincing backstory could be stressful.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture,” Cal told her kindly, and Skye felt her heart swell.

_Don’t get emotional_ , she told herself sternly. _You_ _don’t need him thinking you’re some crazy girl showing up and crying all over him_.

She had to wonder. How much of him was in there, and why had it been so easy to become a welcome presence in his life? Was it the programming, the friendly lonely new-in-town vet happy for the companionship? Or deep down, did some part of him know?

“Thank you,” she told him sincerely, and Cal-- _Don_ , smiled.

***

It was a little over a week the next time Skye ran into Billy, rushing out for a morning task.

“Is he--”

“Thank you!” Billy called out, answering her question, she supposed.

_Show time I guess._

Skye knocked on Coulson’s door, hearing him say “Come in.”

“Uh. It’s Skye,” she called back, just to be clear. She didn’t think he was expecting her. His silence seemed to confirm this, and she was wondering if she should give up when he opened the door. _Oh_. Apparently he hadn’t gotten as far as last time, since the Coulson in front of her was wearing an undershirt and...boxer briefs. _Chill Skye, chill._ He gave her a strange look, like he was challenging her, like this was some kind of test. Some kind of ‘get out while you can, you don’t want to deal with this.’

But Skye had never lost a game of Chicken before, even those with mild nudity (especially those,) so she looked him in the eye and lifted her chin. “Koenig said you might need some assistance.”

If her decision to stay surprised Coulson, it didn’t show. He knew her after all, so from the sigh he let out he may have just felt resigned.

“Come in.”

Skye followed Coulson into the room, shutting the door behind her. Watching him walk over to his bed to grab the shirt laid out on it, Skye realized for the first time that his left arm was bare but for the tan compression bandages. She hadn’t seen it since he was in still in recovery, and she wondered if she should be alarmed or happy that the director didn’t seem to be hiding.

Skye was puzzled, though. She had thought it would be more jarring, more difficult to keep her eyes from lingering on the spot. As he turned back around to face her, she understood.

What Skye hadn’t taken into account were the _other_ parts of his body that were commanding her attention. The faint outline of his biceps, his hairy knees ( _Coulson has knees. Of course he has knees, stupid_ ,) his--okay, was it just her or was Coulson being way too chill about Skye being around him in his underwear? Especially since she could see so much--

“Everything okay Skye?” Coulson asked, a slight quirk to his lips. Embarrassed, but knowing that there were worse reasons to get caught staring these days, Skye gathered herself.

“Sorry, spaced out for a bit. Early training session with May.”

“I can see that,” he told her as he eyed her outfit. It was then that Skye remembered her gross, sweaty ponytail and probably funky-smelling workout clothes, and decided that maybe Coulson wasn’t the one who needed to be embarrassed right now anyway.

“Shirt?” She asked, all-business, and Coulson pulled it on, looking amused. Once it was on, Skye buttoned it up, cool as a cucumber. Not waiting for him (is it weird she was about to help him put on his pants and she was most excited about the damn tie? _Priorities, Skye_ ,) Skye grabbed his pants from the bed. Once again, the belt was already looped through. She wondered if it was Koenig who did that or Coulson. It wasn’t like he couldn’t do anything without his left hand, in fact, Skye was convinced he somehow looked even cooler putting on and taking off his aviators with one hand. _Does he practice or something?_ She could picture it, and the thought put a fond smile on her face.

“Alright, what’s the best way to do this, I drop them on the floor and you step into them?”

The look he gave her was a delightful mix of stunned horror and disgust.  

“You can’t just _drop them on the floor_ ,” he chided her, and she rolled her eyes. He sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

_Oh_.

“Oh. Got it.” Taking a knee, now essentially eye level with his crotch, Skye kept her focus on helping his socked-feet into the pant legs and not hyperventilating or gawking again. Although, considering his recent moods, the gawking seemed to be a bit of a boost for him. _Yeah, like he doesn't know he looks good._ Once the pants were over his shins he stood, and Skye pulled them up over his thighs, then hips. At this point, she wondered if she might have simply checked out, gone on a mental vacation, because she somehow wasn’t losing her shit at their proximity or the way her thumbs made contact with the hair on his thighs as she stood up.

For his part, Coulson didn’t seem very affected either ( _Should I be offended_?) and he simply did his part tucking his shirt in before she got him buttoned and fastened his belt. This time though she left the zipper, and Coulson seemed grateful, if his faint sigh of relief was any indication. Instead, she went over to the bed and grabbed the tie. It was a nice one, of course they were all nice, but the color on this once was particularly eye-catching. And they were all very distinguished, especially compared to the Bugs Bunny one Cal had let her keep to practice. As she draped it around his neck, Coulson smiled.

“Thank you, Skye. I can go see if Andrew or someone else is around to--” He cut himself off, noticing that she was now (expertly, if she could say so herself,) tying it all on her own. Determined not to get distracted and slip up, Skye kept her eyes on the task at hand, remembering the steps her father had gone through with her. The silly memory devices were particularly helpful, although she would never use them out loud in front of Coulson. She was focused. She definitely didn’t pay attention to the fact that his Adam’s apple was bobbing in his throat, or the fact that he sounded like he had stopped breathing. _How is this more awkward than buttoning up his pants?_ She wondered, but ‘awkward’ wasn’t quite right. Uncomfortable? Personal?

“All done!” She said, smoothing it out and finally looking up at his face. It was her turn to stop breathing. Coulson didn’t look awkward or uncomfortable at all. He looked impossibly, incredibly touched. The emotion in his eyes was almost enough to make her burst into tears, but to be fair, they were all pretty emotionally worn out these days. She cleared her throat. “So, you should be all set. I know I’m not Billy, but if, you know, you need help sometime and no one else is available…” she trailed off as Coulson wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

The first one since he’d lost his hand.

Since they both lost a part of themselves on that ship that they wouldn’t get back.

Like he had said back when they visited her father the first time, this was another reminder that things wouldn’t be the same. But really, it was just different. There was no reason he couldn’t use both arms, she thought, but knew that was probably more about him then her. Maybe they would get to that point, maybe they wouldn’t. She was just happy they were both there.

***

The following morning, she ran into Billy in the hall once again. “Off on a mission?” She asked, and he shook his head.

“Nope, well, sort of, the Director asked me to find you,” he told her, tucking his lanyard in his coat. “Apparently he feels bad that he takes up time in my mornings helping him out when I could be working on other matters. I told him it was fine, but he wouldn’t hear it. What a guy, right? He said that your mornings are free, so you offered to give him a ha-- assist, instead.”

Skye raised an eyebrow, but on the inside her heart thudded in her chest. Billy mistook her silence for something else, clearly, since he rushed to reassure her.

“I know he can be a bit fussy with the suits, but it’s really kind of an honor, isn’t it? I would absolutely do it, but, you know, my skills are needed elsewhere.”

“Sounds great, Billy, thanks,” she said, smiling, and he gave her a little suit before walking away. As she headed toward his office, giving herself a sniff, Skye wondered if she should start showering after her sessions with May. It seemed like she would have a new element added to her morning routine moving forward.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Coulson spend a holiday with a certain friendly vet.

“Thanks for doing this,” Skye told Phil quietly as they approached the front steps. “You probably had something else planned.” Coulson gave her a funny look. What gave her that idea? Sure, Christmas was, you know, a holiday, but it wasn’t Christmas yet, and it wasn't as if he’d made any elaborate plans for the last couple anyway.

Andrew and May had invited him for dinner with May’s mother, and as fascinating as that would be, he passed. He would surely get the scoop from Dr. Garner later, and he made sure at least one of them would tell May’s mother that he said hello. The rest of his agents made plans with either family or friends, so when Skye asked if he wanted to go to Wisconsin with her a couple days before the holiday, he realized it was either that or a very lonely night on the base.

“If by ‘plans,’ you mean catching up on filing or winterizing my office windows, I guess you could say that,” he told her, and she smiled.

“Can you?” She gestured to the doorbell, her hands full with the tray of cookies they’d brought. Coulson rang the doorbell, excited to go inside and out of the cold. Lola’s heating system was working fine, but the minute they stepped out of the car the winter air chilled them to the bone. Skye was bouncing on her heels in a vain attempt to keep warm when the door opened.

“Merry Christmas!” Don yelled cheerfully, beckoning for them to come in. It was bizarre, seeing Cal like this. There were always faint signs of a friendly, happy man, but it was usually when he was making a threat or behaving like a maniac. So Phil couldn’t help but be a little unsettled seeing that smile again.

But the TAHITI program was nothing if not effective, and it was clear that Don Winslow and Calvin Johnson were two very different people. And only one of them was standing in front of him in a reindeer sweater.

“Come in, come in, positively frigid out there, isn’t it?” He shut the door behind them, and Coulson took a quick look around. The place was homey, with a glow from the fireplace and a Christmas tree lighting up the otherwise dim sitting room. Looking down the hall he could see a set of stairs, a kitchen and what was most likely a dining room, all well-lit and welcoming. Christmas music played lightly in the background. “Let me take that off your hands, Daisy. Ooh, what did you bring?” Skye laughed at his excitement, and Phil felt a warmth in his chest at the sound.

They had done the right thing.

He had been skeptical, he had to admit, of Skye visiting fairly frequently. Even more so when she admitted that she had formed a friendship of sorts with the man. There were so many ways that could have gone wrong, but miraculously it had worked. Don was new in town, and a bit awkward (they tried not to alter Cal too much, just enough to weed out the crazy,) so a friendly face like Skye’s was welcome and appreciated. Maybe it was because deep down he felt the connection, or maybe it was just because it was Skye, but the two had hit it off. Even if he didn’t know it, Cal was finally spending time with his daughter.

“Quite a car out there,” he said as they followed him into the kitchen. Coulson smiled, friendly. He always let Skye take Lola on her visits, she was in too good condition not to get out of the garage once in a while.

Placing the tray of cookies on the counter, Cal turned to Phil, hand outstretched. “Don,” he said, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Phil,” Coulson answered, shaking his hand. He could see Skye’s eyes widen.

“Oh, _Phil_!” Don said, as if he’d heard of him before.

 _Had he?_ Coulson looked to Skye.

“Oh, Daisy mentioned you. Once or twice,” he tried to wave it off, looking concerned that he had stepped into something. “You two work together?” Coulson nodded, and Don looked to the oven. “I should check on that, please, make yourselves at home. Sitting room is open, light switch on the right. I’ll be with you in a jiffy!” Grabbing an oven mitt (that looked like a chicken,) Don ushered them out.

They walked to the living room and Skye turned on the light, revealing a surprisingly cozy space. There was no TV, but two cats lounging on the windowsill and an ottoman. “Hey guys,” she whispered, picking up ottoman cat, who looked unconcerned, but apathetic to being moved.

“Friends of yours?” Coulson asked, eyebrow raised. Skye nodded.

“Ipsy and Lulu? We’re pretty tight.” She made a face. “I guess they’re kind of like my fur-siblings?”

“Feel free to take off your coats!” Don called from the kitchen. “I forgot that part!” Skye grinned at Coulson, setting the cat down before removing her own jacket and moving to help him with his. While she had helped him with his outfit (the sweater he could get on his own, but he still had an embarrassingly difficult time with his pants, of all things,) this was the first time he saw hers, watching her cross the room to the coat rack.

“Sequins?” He asked, surprised, and Skye looked down to the shiny black skirt.

“It’s the holidays, and sometimes denim and leather get boring,” she responded, frowning, and he held up his hand in defense.

“Not judging, just...noticing.” he finished lamely. The rest of her outfit was reserved in comparison, but nice. While sometimes Coulson wondered about the days when Skye first came into their lives, in colors and prints and ripped jeans, he had to admit that he wasn’t sure he’d met anyone else who could make all-black look that interesting. She really committed to the spy aesthetic.

“So you told your father about me?” He joked, not missing the caught look on her face.

“I thought you were going to use a different name,” she told him, as if that explained it.

He’d thought about it, but ultimately decided against it. Maybe it was selfish, but he felt like this was a chance for him to get to meet Cal again. He always felt like he would have liked Cal, without the madness and anger and desire to rip him limb from limb. It was still, ultimately, a lie, whoever he was tonight, just like ‘Daisy’ was. But they were both well-intentioned lies, and the closest thing to a true new beginning between them.

Between Skye and her father.

Coulson was just there as moral support.

This wasn’t about him.

“Do you need help in there, Don?” Skye called out, hearing a few pots banging around and some quick footsteps.

“Nope, just remembered something, give me one second…” They saw him run down the hall and heard him go up the stairs. After some creaking footsteps above them, he ran back down and walked into the sitting room, a bit out of breath. “I thought I’d give you this, for your tie-wearing _friend_ ,” he told Skye, holding up an extremely tacky Christmas tie, with what looked like tiny, colored lightbulbs.

Skye looked surprised but said nothing, and Don looked over at Phil.

Then at his arm.

The sling, black against the mossy green of his sweater, wasn’t visible when he arrived, and Coulson found himself feeling surprised Skye didn’t mention it ahead of time to avoid any uncomfortable moments.

_Like this one._

“Oh,” said Don, looking, then looking up at Coulson’s face. Coulson tried to give a friendly smile, so the moment could just end. But Cal looked strange, like some gears were turning. He looked over at Skye. “ _Oh_. So Phil and Tie Guy are... one in the same.”

Phil wouldn’t be so concerned at what was happening ( _Because really, what is happening?_ ) if Skye didn’t look like she was about to keel over, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Ah, yeah,” she said finally, looking over at Coulson. “I didn’t mention that?”

_‘Tie Guy?’_

_I’m not even wearing a tie._

Cal looked over at the doorway, twitchy. “Um, I think I should go set the table. And stop talking,” he muttered, exiting the room.

_Why would he know I like ties because of my--_

The ugly Bugs Bunny tie he’d seen hanging up in Skye’s bunk.

Her sudden ability to--

_Oh._

He finally made eye contact with Skye, who was looking at him like he might malfunction, or yell at her or something.

“Did you ask Cal to teach you--”

“Dinner’s ready!”

Smiling awkwardly, Skye walked through the door, and Phil followed. He still had a few questions.

***

“So she brings in a gigantic great dane, just this massive creature, and I realize that we don’t have a pet scale big enough for him in the entire practice,” Cal-- _Don_ chuckled at the memory, as Skye and Coulson listened, amused. “So I saw this thing once on the Discovery Channel, about how zookeepers weigh baby giraffes. What they do is they pick up the giraffe, stand on a scale, then subtract the keeper’s weight. So I remember that we have a digital scale in the bathroom, one for humans, and I decide to--”

“Oh god,” Skye muttered, covering her eyes. “Was that the giant shattering noise I heard when I was setting up your new monitor?” He shrugged, and the three of them laughed. Skye and her father both had enjoyed quite a bit of wine, and, had they not come in Lola, Coulson might be inclined to suggest she ease up a bit. With autopilot and (presumably) no other cars in the sky, they would be fine as long as she could get them off the ground.

_We just won’t mention it to May._

May had no stake in Lola’s safety, but as a pilot she was a stickler, so it would probably be best to keep it under wraps.

As bizarre as it was, the dinner was also fantastic, if just because Skye looked so happy. Maybe Don wasn’t what Cal was really like, what he was supposed to be like, but he was similar enough that the connection was there. They had to watch themselves, make sure they didn’t slip up, but frankly their experiences with Cal had been so outside the usual realm of possibilities, there wasn’t much danger of bringing up a past memory he wouldn’t know about.

Once the initial awkwardness had faded, he had asked Phil the usual questions: how was his job, is that how he met Daisy, was he from the area (Coulson still wondered about the likelihood of both of them being from Wisconsin, but it made talking about his background that much easier.) He didn’t ask about his arm, so Coulson supposed Skye must have made up something. Is that why she was so nervous? Because she told Cal about him and his injury? That was clearly what designated him as ‘Tie Guy.’ Was she embarrassed that he knew she asked her father to teach her for him?

_Or does Don know something about ‘Tie Guy’ that I don’t?_

Sipping his own glass of wine, Coulson watched the two, wondering what had happened there. Don was certainly treating him like--well, he didn’t want to say a son, but definitely like a younger man than he actually was. He would think they would interact like peers, considering their minimal age difference, but maybe because he was introduced as a friend of Daisy’s, he got special treatment.

 _Friend_.

It was both an oversimplification and way too complex way to refer to his relationship with Skye. What was Skye to him? He had no idea. Surely she was his friend, he cared about her a great deal.  Like “Phil and Daisy” (he grimaced at the way those names sounded together, _like the elderly couple next door who always calls Neighborhood Watch_ ,) they worked together, but “co-workers” didn’t begin to describe the relationship between any two SHIELD agents, let alone him and Skye.

Skye. His friend, his co-worker, his former protege, his current equal, the woman who saved his life in more ways and instances than he could count, the woman who now helped him get dressed most mornings and once zipped his fly with shocking nonchalance. (Before he recoiled and sent her into a shame spiral, _idiot_.)

How bizarre to be meeting her father (sort of) under these circumstances. As that man she worked with, was friends with, and learned to tie a tie for.

A loud laugh from Cal and Skye ( _Don and Daisy,_ they sounded like a sitcom,) pulled Phil out of his own head, and he smiled and took another sip of his wine. Perking up, Don paused. The music had stopped.

“Ah, sounds like I need to flip that over,” he said, moving to stand.

“Let me,” Skye offered, waving him away.

“I don’t know, that thing might be an ancient artifact to you,” he said. Coulson had seen the record player in the living room, it wasn’t much older than his own.

“I’m sure I can handle it,” Skye said, raising an eyebrow and looking at Phil, who nearly coughed up his wine. The look was meant to signify her knowledge of record players, right? _Not other artifacts,_ he thought grimly.

 _Stop thinking like that_ , he scolded himself, seeing the slight frown on Skye’s face. It was like she could read his mind.

 _Could she?_ He sent her an apologetic smile just in case.

“I actually have one at the office,” he told Don, who seemed intrigued.

“No kidding.”

“Tell him about your collection,” Skye suggested, looking over her shoulder a bit as she left the room. “He’ll either love you or _seethe_ with jealous rage.”

Her sarcasm was not lost on Coulson, who recalled some of the speculation they’d dealt with when discussing what to do with Cal. Fitz, bless him, had no idea Coulson was awake, or that Skye (also awake) had spent the night curled up in the chair next to his hospital bed, when he pondered the decision with Simmons.

Their voices were hushed, but that didn’t stop Coulson and Skye from hearing Fitz’s surprise that the Director was being so kind to Cal. He didn’t think he would be vindictive, but wondered whether or not he was “a bit jealous.”

Luckily, the incredulous face Skye sent him prevented Coulson from getting too “in his head” about it, and it had become a bit of a joke between them.

They never discussed _why_ it would be absurd for Coulson to be jealous of Cal, but he liked to think it was self-explanatory.

That way _he_ didn’t have to explain it.

Looking up to Cal to see if he wanted help with the dishes, Coulson caught the other man looking at him with a strange look on his face. A bit amused...and relieved?

He sighed. “I gotta tell you Phil, you just made me feel a whole lot better,” he said, and Coulson furrowed his brow, confused. Don gestured toward the living room, where the music had quietly started to play again.

And where he had been caught staring, apparently.

“I mean, I was worried, thought I really stepped in it earlier, you know? I thought you had no idea, but it looks like you two figured it out,” he explained, smiling. “That’s great.”

“Figured...what out exactly?” He had lost him. The smile dropped off again, and Don ran a hand over his face.

“Shoot,” he muttered. Standing abruptly, his chair squeaked against the floor. “Want a cookie, Phil? I’m going to grab a cookie.” Sure enough he walked quickly to the kitchen, and Coulson hurried to follow.

“What did you mean--”

“Ooh, I should bring Daisy one,” he observed, grabbing two of the cookies of the tray and hurrying to the living room.

“Don--”

The two walked into the living room, and Coulson couldn’t help the goofy smile that spread across his face. Skye was holding one of the cats in her arms, lightly holding one paw in her hand, doing a silly little slow dance to the music. Her eyes were closed, but after a few beats they opened and she grinned.

“You’re going to spoil him,” Cal told her, “he doesn’t want to deal with me anymore. I’m old news.” He gestured to the couch and Phil decided to sit, and watch the scene play out. Apparently Don _did_ know something about Tie Guy that he didn’t. Luckily for Phil, even this version of Cal was a terrible liar.

“You should dance with them more, they might like you better,” Skye replied, doing a little spin. The cat, for his part, looked unmoved.

“You waltz?” Cal asked, and Skye shook her head. “Ah, well, let me show you.” Rather than reaching for his daughter like Coulson expected, Don picked up the other cat, who quietly vocalized its objection but didn’t flee or scratch. Adopting a similar stance to Skye’s, he began to instruct her. Skye laughed, but watched him carefully, mirroring his steps through the small living space.

***

“Is it 3 am? It feels like 3 am,” Skye murmured as they walked through the garage. It was _not_ 3 am, but still rather late between their extended visit with Cal/Don and the long flight home.

“I’m shocked you didn’t pass out in the car,” Coulson admitted, and Skye narrowed her already bleary eyes.

“I’m a responsible adult,” Skye retorted, and he chuckled.

“I told you, once we got Lola flying it would be fine,” he argued, and she just shook her head. They walked through the quiet, practically abandoned Playground, and as they neared his room, Coulson realized Skye was not heading in the direction of her own bunk. He didn’t say anything.

Stepping into his room he switched on the light, then turned to face Skye _. She’s a lot closer than I thought_ , he realized, watching mystified as Skye moved to unbutton his coat. He let her, doing his part as she pulled it off of his shoulders before folding it and setting it on a chair. Next, all concentration and focus, she pulled his sling from around his neck.

Really, it was just a reversal of the usual process, right?

No. This was very different. Because Skye had helped him dress dozens of times. She had never helped him undress.

He swallowed heavily.

You wouldn’t know it by looking at her face, he realized. She seemed to be treating it as ‘business as usual,’ and he wondered if he wasn’t a bit disappointed by that. But no, something was different. It was _very_ different when she helped him pull his sweater over his head, leaving him bare chested in front of her.

“Skye,” he said quietly, and she seemed to come to her senses a bit. Looking up at him, her eyes seemed impossibly huge.

“Is this okay?” He hands fell to her sides, but she didn’t step out of his space. This close, Coulson could see that she was not as unaffected as he thought. Her cheeks had pinked a bit, and he could swear he could _hear_ her heart beating rapidly. Feeling pretty affected himself, he nodded. Her eyes moved to his chest, and Coulson felt the urge to look away, not wanting to see her face when her eyes landed on that other grievous injury of his, the one he had so far avoided letting her see.

But rather than linger on his scar, he saw her gaze trail across his chest, joined by the feather-light touch of her hand. Her eyes moved down, her hand dropping slowly further to the light hair on his stomach, which contracted at the contact. She moved lower and, somehow, wound up back in familiar territory, her hands on his belt.

_Who knew that would feel safer?_

It wasn’t much safer, to be honest, since typically when Skye was fastening his pants he’d had time to mentally prepare himself. He was a human(ish) male, of course he would have a reaction to a woman like Skye spending a decent amount of time in the space around his penis. But he was also a SHIELD agent, and a gentleman. He took precautions, and if he ever wasn’t able to completely rein it in, Skye was either polite or didn’t notice.

But he didn’t have time to prepare tonight, and as Skye got him unbuckled, unbuttoned and, yes, unzipped (still jarring,) that fact became _quite_ obvious. Feeling his pants drop to the floor but not wanting to look down, Coulson stepped out of them. Skye moved to bend over and pick them up--

“Leave them,” he told her, voice cracking embarrassingly. Skye’s eyes widened.

“You can’t just _drop them on the floor_ ,” she chastised him, and Phil smiled, chagrined. This was better, he thought. Smirking a bit, Skye picking the pants up, folded them, and set them on the chair with the sweater. When she turn to face him again though, Coulson frowned.

“Skye, you look _exhausted_ ,” he told her, watching her blink slowly. She looked like she was about to drop any second.

“Hm?” She murmured, but didn’t argue. Coulson sighed, laughing a bit.

“Why don’t you go to bed,” he suggested gently, and she frowned before shrugging. And taking her shirt off. “ _Skye_ , I meant--” _You know what?_ It had been a long day. Phil walked over to his bed and crawled under the covers.

After some rustling of clothing (and the _swish_ of her sequined skirt hitting the floor,) the lights in the room flicked off, and sure enough the other side of his bed dipped a bit as Skye climbed in. Feeling her arms wrap around his torso and her chest (bare _, Jesus_ ,) press against his back, Coulson sighed.

“We should probably talk about this,” he muttered, wondering just how naked Skye was, and how she seemed to think this was totally normal.

 _She does basically dress you every morning,_ an annoying little voice in his head whispered.

“Eh,” Skye responded, “can we do it tomorrow?”

 _Phrasing_.

“Phrasing,” Coulson hissed, and she let out a low laugh that practically made him groan.

“Sorry,” she murmured, and as he felt her press a kiss in between his shoulder blades, Phil realized how backwards this whole thing was. Moving carefully but still clumsier than he would have liked, Coulson turned around to face her. The room was dark, but the light of his alarm clock cast a slight red glow over Skye’s face.

“We’re talking about this tomorrow,” he told her seriously, and Skye nodded back, sleepy but managing to pay attention.

“My dad likes you,” she told him, and Coulson decided he _really_ didn’t want to talk about Cal right now.

(Which, maybe a good thing, getting him/ _it_ to settle down a bit.)

“Okay,” he responded, not unkindly but decidedly uncomfortable. But he was still curious. Shifting a bit so he could rest his right arm under Skye’s neck, Coulson got comfortable. “He knows you do my tie for me,” he observed, and Skye nodded, resting her head against his shoulder. “What else does he know about me?”

Skye let out a sleepy sigh, and he would have felt bad, but she seemed to be thinking. “He knows I talk about you a lot, and that you mean a lot to me.” He couldn’t see her face, but the seriousness of her voice made Phil a bit nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t really tell. “He knows you wear suits, and like collecting things, and we both suspect you tolerate cats, but are really a dog person.”

Coulson made a face, and Skye sighed. “Vets,” she mumbled. Pressing her face into the side of his neck. “Sleep.”

“Hold on,” Coulson objected, and Skye groaned. “Hey, if you didn’t want so many questions…” he began, and the responding sigh seemed to indicate he had a point. Pulling back a bit, Coulson looked at her. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he marveled at the fact that he was currently lying mostly naked in bed with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen who also happened to be a superhero and SHIELD agent.

Leaning in he kissed her lightly, pulling away just as she let out a contented sigh and began to kiss him back. “Hey,” she whispered, chasing his mouth with her own.

“Now we can sleep,” Coulson said happily, pulling Skye back to his chest.

“Hold on--”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he told her, closing his eyes. Skye grumbled, but didn’t object further. “I’ll even let you show me that dance Cal taught you,” he said, and felt Skye shift.

“You don’t know how to waltz?” She asked, sounding surprised.

“I do,” he clarified. “Cal doesn’t.” Skye let out a quiet laugh.

“Then what exactly was he doing?”

Coulson smirked, recalling the silly, but very sweet dance they had been doing. He hadn’t wanted to spoil the moment, so he kept his mouth shut. “Not a clue,” he sighed. “I can teach you to actually waltz though, if you want.”

Skye shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dance is stolen shamelessly from Chloe's Instagram, because she's adorkable and flawless. https://instagram.com/p/iWcvuxF3zy/?taken-by=chloebennet4


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson and Skye get a little closer, but an awkward moment puts any progress on hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tweaked this a bit, so next chapter will be the final one. This time Cal's role is downplayed a bit, but I explored something he said when they met that always stuck with me.

As Skye woke up, a few things began to register. She was warm, which wasn’t always the case in the chilly Playground. She was also mostly naked, which wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence either lately. Sighing, she wrapped her arms closer around the warm body in front of her, and as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, she realized, _Oh, shit._

Spooning a shirtless Coulson? Also fairly unheard of.

_'Fairly?' Who am I kidding?_

She had been sober (mostly) the night before, so it wasn’t as if she’d blacked out or anything. But when you’re overtired and kind of giddy and, hey, it’s Christmas(ish,) some things seem more reasonable than usual.

_Like pressing your naked tits to your boss/friend/favorite person’s back._

Then again, the night had been remarkably innocent, she recalled with just a slight hint of disappointment. He’d kissed her, sure, after she stopped talking about her dad, _Jesus, Skye_. Sue her, it had been a nice night, and given her parental situation, she’s allowed to have some nice family moments, thank you very much.

And her dad approving of the boy she liked? Cliched? Sure. Unnecessary? Definitely. But amusing and kind of great, in a weird way.

 _But what does_ he _think?_ She contemplated the back of the man in front of her, who, from the sound of it, was still deeply asleep. She watched his back rise and fall evenly as he breathed, looked at all the freckles and thought, _holy shit those are usually under his clothes._

Yup, they were both definitely mostly naked. But given the brief and chaste nature of the kiss, which, yeah, she expected it to be a little more, she didn’t know, dramatic?

_What, if anything, has changed?_

Sure she had been asleep, but given the conversation the night before, things felt a little...unbalanced to Skye. Here she was, clinging to his back while he was turned away from her? It was silly, but gave off an unwelcome “desperate” vibe to her.

_‘We’ll talk tomorrow.’_

_What are we going to talk about?_

A feeling of uneasiness washed over her, and Skye wondered if she shouldn’t duck out of there. It wasn’t nice to walk out on someone, but it wasn’t as if they actually did anything right?

But then again, she would be back in about an hour to help him get dressed anyway, which, awkward.

Slowly Skye removed her arms from their place around his (warm, naked, hairy) chest. Withdrawing a bit, Skye let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and laid on her back.

_What do I do now?_

Coulson seemed to have an idea, because he let out a deep, sleepy sigh and turned around.

“Hi,” Skye whispered immediately, before cringing. _Give him a second, jeez._

Coulson didn’t seem to mind though, blinking heavily and giving her this slow, kind of goofy early morning smile that she somehow felt all the way in her toes. They stared at each other for a bit, before his eyes slowly made their way down and--

_There we go._

Call her crazy, or greedy, or self-absorbed, but his apparent lack of reaction to a girl being topless in his bed had kind of bugged the hell out of Skye. _But this, now we’re talking,_ she thought as he slid his hand down between her breasts, then cupping the right. Teasing her nipple with his thumb he leaned over and began kissing her neck, and Skye sighed happily.

She was excited to get to know _this_ Coulson. Going for it, zero hesitation, apparently super horny Coulson. But she was also feeling a bit dissatisfied by the night before, so she reached up to his neck, pulling him up to kiss her properly. What could she say? She was a romantic. He obliged, open-mouthed and still tired and kind of sloppy. It was working for her though, as was his hand that was trailing down her stomach. Skye let out an embarrassingly loud moan, earning a quiet laugh from Coulson. He leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth, which, _holy shit_. She ran a hand through his hair, urging him on.

But as his hand slipped under the band of her panties, she felt a light, brief touch on her ribs, before Coulson recoiled so fast she almost got whiplash.

“Wha- what’s wrong?” Skye watched him pull away and sit up, his back turned to her again. “Coulson? Did I--” _Too much, too fast?_ Skye sat up as well, wondering what the hell she did, when she saw him pull his left arm to his chest, crossing the right one over it.

She knew what had happened.

“Coulson, I don’t-- that doesn’t bother me,” she told him quietly. Skye was reeling; she had no idea he would have such a strong reaction to that. _Should I have known?_

He had been so... _okay_ about it. Going about his business, making the occasional joke, not letting the injury disrupt his business. He was fine with her seeing it, clearly, since she helped him dress nearly every day. She couldn’t really get him to open up about it, but that had always been a struggle anyway.

“Coulson--”

“I need a minute,” he told her flatly, and Skye winced.

“Okay, sorry,” she told him softly, sitting back to give him space. She saw him shift uncomfortably. _Oh_. “Do you want me to leave?”

Coulson seemed to hesitate, but didn’t turn to look at her. “Yes.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have left him alone, maybe the right thing to do in that scenario was talk it through with him, make sure he knew he was okay. But Skye wasn’t a therapist, and Coulson was an adult. She wouldn’t force the issue, not if there was a chance it would upset him more.

Sliding off the bed, Skye stood and pulled on her clothes, before walking out of the room. She stopped in the doorway. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, or…” she trailed off, not knowing exactly how to finish that thought. Coulson didn’t move.

***

Climbing into the SUV, Skye stared at her phone. _Should I…?_ Normally she would prefer to keep things like that under wraps, but she was very out of her element here. It wasn’t likely that Coulson was going to tell her what was bugging him, less likely he would listen to her if she told him she _literally does not mind one bit_. Sure it was different, but it was still Coulson, and Coulson’s body. Skye was certain it was impossible to be repulsed by any part of him touching her, let alone the reminder that he was still alive.

Maybe it wasn’t about her, though. Maybe it was another reminder to him about something he wasn’t able to do. She didn’t know. With that thought strengthening her resolve, she dialed. After just two rings, the phone was picked up.

“Skye.”

Sitting up straight, Skye reminded herself that yes, this was a possibility.

“Uh, hi May.” She cringed, realizing how early it was, and that if May was picking up that phone in particular, she had probably been sleeping. _Or…_

“Is something wrong?” She didn’t sound impatient, but maybe worried? She was even harder to read over the phone.

“No, no. Well. Yes, but nothing really--is Dr. Garner...there?”

May audibly sighed, then after a murmuring in the background, Andrew picked up.

“Hello, Skye,” he answered, his tired voice basically confirming he and May had been sleeping.

 _Oops_.

“What can I do for you?”

Reclining in her seat, Skye sighed, wondering how exactly to go about it. “I need to talk to you about something...it’s kind of delicate.”

“Give me a minute,” he replied, and she could hear him say something to May, then opening and closing a door. “I’m in my office,” he told her, answering the question she didn’t have to ask. “What do you need to talk about?”

“It’s...Coulson,” she told him, looking out the windows of the SUV. “He--I don’t know if it’s something I did, or if it’s in his head, but something happened and he got upset, and I don’t want to make it worse, but I can’t just leave him alone to--”

“Skye,” Dr. Garner’s patient voice cut through her panicked rambling. “Take a breath,” he told her, and Skye sucked in a quick gulp of air. “Slowly,” he replied, and Skye rolled her eyes a bit but took a deep, slow breath, before letting it out. “Better?”

She nodded, but realized he definitely couldn’t see that. “Yeah, sorry. Thanks.”

“So I’m going to need you to take me through this, slower, okay? Something happened with Director Coulson?”

“Yeah,” Skye replied, rubbing a hand over her eyes. How did it go wrong so quickly? The memory of his hand touching her skin gave her goosebumps, or maybe it was the chilly garage in the early morning.

“Just now?” He asked, clearly another question lurking under the surface. He was intuitive guy, Andrew wouldn’t overlook the hour of her call.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Skye asked, feeling probably more defensive than was warranted. Cautious, she thought. Not just for herself, but for Coulson as well. She didn’t want to put him in a tougher spot than necessary.

“No Skye, it won’t. To figure this out, I may need more details though, so if it’s not something you feel comfortable sharing with me…”

Andrew being May’s ex-husband and current...boyfriend? Man friend? Whatever, definitely complicated things a bit. He and Coulson had a history as well, so even though she was talking to Dr. Garner, talking about Coulson to Andrew always felt a little...wrong. Like she was going behind his back, talking to his friend.

 _But he hasn’t let me down yet_. Dr. Garner was good, and this was coming from someone who had seen and hated many shrinks over the years. _And if anyone could help Coulson…_

“No, it’s fine. Just--this is _private_ , okay?”

“Of course, Skye. Walk me through what happened.”

Skye told him basically what happened, giving him enough information to understand, but not so much that he knew every detail. She didn’t think it was necessary for him to know exactly where Coulson’t mouth went, for instance, to give proper advice. Or what noises he made, or--

“Skye, are you still there?”

“Ah, yeah, sorry, still here. This is just...weird. It’s weird right?” Skye wasn’t a prude, or embarrassed by sex, but it was a little early for her brain to wrap around this conversation. “I mean, Coulson’s not weird. Just talking about it. Right now. To you.” She finished lamely.  

“It’s not weird,” Andrew told her reassuringly, and she sighed. “Was this the first time you and Director Coulson were intimate?”

 _Jeez_.

“Uh, yeah, I mean, technically last night I guess? But this morning it was kind of more...serious.” _That’s one way of putting it._

“Presumably this is the first time he’s been with someone since his injury?” Dr. Garner asked, sounding remarkably calm and reasonable given the circumstances. Well, maybe it was normal for him to be unaffected, but it seemed so strange to hear someone sound so level-headed when her entire world kind of imploded on itself.

“I mean, you’re his shrink, you’d know better than me,” Skye joked awkwardly. She was fairly sure that was the case, but didn’t make a habit of assuming anything with Coulson.

“It’s possible,” he continued, not dignifying that with an answer, “that this was his first experience like this since his death, considering the nature of the work you’ve all been doing.”

Skye hadn’t ( _really_ ) thought about that ( _often_ ,) but he was probably right. Skye liked to think that she was a mature woman, not insecure or jealous, but there was no way she  _w_ _ouldn’t_ know if Coulson was doing it with someone, right? Not that she was hyper-aware of him at all times or anything, but she was observant. And if he couldn’t hide his alien writing from her…

“You’re probably right,” she agreed. “So this was a big deal, wasn’t it?” Skye was extremely out of her element here. “So what do I do? What _can_ I do?”

“Well, I won’t know until I talk to him, if he chooses to talk to me,” Andrew amended, “but this could have been a few things. He could feel that the moment was marred by his injury, that it took away from something important to both of you.”

 _Idiot_ , Skye thought. She wasn’t unsympathetic to Coulson’s feelings, but the idea that anything could have ruined that moment was kind of insane to her. _Unless he pulled off a mask and was actually a giant alien bug creature or something…_

“Or he could have been worried that you would be disturbed by it, as an unwelcome reminder of what happened. He could think that you might even be disgusted by it--”

“That would never happen,” Skye retorted immediately, kind of hating him just for suggesting it.

“I know that, Skye,” Andrew’s insanely reasonable voice reassured her, “we’re just hashing through the possibilities. He might not be feeling rational right now, he suffered a big loss, and we’re not sure he’s been working through that grief enough.”

“‘We,’ being…?”

“You, myself,” he admitted. “I might be violating a couple codes telling you that, but it’s nothing I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to pry out of me eventually.”

Skye wanted to feel offended at the implication, but had enough sessions with _Dr. Garner_ (and chats around the base with _Andrew_ ) to understand. Maybe a psychiatrist’s codes were a bit more serious, but both Coulson and Skye had a penchant for breaking the rules once in a while. Only if the situation warranted it.

“Right. So I should…”

“Let him come to you. It hasn’t been that long, has it?” Skye shook her head, but Andrew luckily seemed to understand from her silence. “If I know Phil, after he works through himself a bit, he’ll probably be worried about you, and he’ll want to make sure he didn’t upset you.”

Skye let out a rueful laugh, knowing that he was right. “Yeah, so I just need to keep busy, right?” Peering out the windshield of the SUV, Skye looked at the empty garage. The empty garage in the empty Playground.

“I’m sure you’ll find something to do. Christmas cookies?”

“Did that already,” she sighed, kicking her feet up on the seat. “Maybe I’ll TP the planes or something.”

“Try to find something productive, maybe.”

Skye laughed. When she found out his occupation, she really didn’t want to like Andrew. When she found out he was May’s ex, she, well, she didn’t know what to think. But she liked him. She was glad Coulson had another friend around, especially one who could help with these sorts of things where she might not exactly work best. Skye liked to think she was understanding, and helpful, and attuned to the feelings of others. But she was also so afraid of doing more damage, she might not act at all, or do the wrong thing.

“Just make sure he knows that you’re there, and you’re going to stick this out,” he told her, as if he could read her mind.

 _‘Stick this out.’_ It was a bit weird, basically admitting that she was in this for the long haul. She was, in a way she always knew that, but acknowledging it was a whole different thing. _To May’s ex-husband/current boyfriend._

“Yeah. I don’t need to remind you that this is uber private, do I? Like, no one else is ever going to know we had this talk?” On the other end of the line, Andrew didn’t quite laugh, but she could practically hear his smile. He was one of those people who could do that.

“I know, Skye.”

“Because Coulson knows about his office, but he doesn’t know about the shooting range.”

“Okay, Skye.”

“Or the kitchen.”

“ _Okay_ , Skye.”

“Kay, bye.”

***

_Keeping busy. Shouldn’t be a problem, right?_

It was a problem.

The Playground had basically cleared out for Christmas, and after getting dressed, eating breakfast, going to the shooting range (avoiding a certain table that will not be named,) showering and making lunch, it was just barely past noon.

And there was no sign of Coulson yet.

So, she cleaned her bunk, did all the dishes in the kitchen sink, trimmed her bangs, and even tidied up Coulson’s office before collapsing on the floor of it. Looking at a clock, Skye groaned. She had hoped, in her wanderings throughout the Playground, she would run into the Director. But it seemed as though he hadn’t left his room. Even after spending time in his office, hoping he would walk in, she was disappointed. Turning her head to look out the window, Skye saw that the sun had begun to set, the orange glow slowly being taken over by the indigo night sky. Not moving from her spot on the floor, she watched as the first signs of stars began to appear.

***

_“Hey,” she said quietly, walking down the steps to Vault D. The barrier was not up, but there was an armed SHIELD agent at the door at all times. Skye understood the reasoning, and appreciated the compromise._

_“Daisy,” Cal greeted her, standing up. He put down a book, one Skye hadn’t seen last time she visited. Part of her wondered where he got it, but mostly she knew._

Nice Cap bookmark.

_“Nice digs,” she joked, and her father chuckled._

_“Thanks to you,” he told her sincerely, and Skye felt a twinge of guilt in her gut._

_“Don’t thank me yet, I guess we’re still...figuring out…”_

_“What to do with me?” He shrugged, walking over to her slowly. “I’m sure whatever you come up with is more than I deserve.” His eyes were so painfully earnest, part of Skye was convinced he would be fine, he was better._

_But she knew that part wasn’t being reasonable._

_“We’re doing everything we can,” she replied, and Cal nodded._

_She had discussed the possibilities with Coulson once he was lucid enough. He had actually brought it up, and his concern about her father with everything considered floored her._

_“You and Phil, right?”_

Can he read minds?

_“‘Phil,’ huh? You guys are on a first name basis now?” Cal gave her a bit of a self-deprecating smile, and Skye had to wonder what exactly happened here when she was gone. She hadn’t asked her father yet, considering how clear he made his feelings about Coulson in the past. He seemed so calm and normal now, the last thing she wanted to do was trigger a tantrum and ruin everything. Despite how consistently well Cal had been doing, Skye still felt like she was walking a tightrope with him._

Which is why we can’t just let him go.

_Although they discussed the possibilities of what to do with Cal, Coulson remained tight lipped about what had gone down between the two of them. Maybe it was out of embarrassment, since, in his drugged up state, he had let slip some mumbled joke about ‘meeting the parents.’ It would have been fine, if just confusing, had they been the only two in the room. But with May and Simmons both present, even high-on-painkillers Coulson picked up on the awkwardness and he quickly dropped it._

_“He’s…” Cal began, watching her carefully. “He cares about you. Very much.” He shrugged. “I don’t understand it--” he shook his head rapidly. “That’s not-- I do understand why someone would...just not-- I’m not making much sense here am I?”_

_Skye wondered if she should start making medals, or badges, or certificates. Something that says, “Welcome to the club of people who don’t understand my relationship with Coulson.” Probably certificates. Easier to make and hand out to what was turning out to be a rapidly growing number of people._

Signed by yours truly, club president.

_“Not much makes sense these days,” Skye non-answered, deliberately not looking at her father. He could see too much in peoples’ faces, she wasn’t sure she liked that. “Are you bored yet?”_

_Cal tilted his head at her, looking a bit confused. “No, no, I’ve got some reading, and you’re here. Unless you’re leaving?” He got that sad puppy face for just a second before pushing it away. “You can go, of course, I know you’re probably busy. And I’m fine here.”_

_“You said something, when we first met,” Skye told him, and Cal seemed to stand at attention. “You said you regretted not being able to teach me about the stars?” Skye could feel the heat in her face grow, not sure how he would respond. Maybe it was just a random comment from him, one he didn’t remember. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. But that had stuck with her. Cal nodded, and she could see his eyes had gotten a bit red._

Shit _._

_“Yes,” he told her, clearing his throat and looking at his shoes. “I, ah- after learning everything about your mother’s people, where they came from, it became a bit of a hobby?”_

_It made sense. After all, hadn’t the whole world begun to look at the night sky differently once aliens descended on New York? Being given just the tiniest peek into what was hidden out there possibly made it more mysterious than not knowing anything at all. After the GH-325 revelation and Coulson’s ‘theory’ about her, Skye would be the first to admit the way she looked at the stars had been altered drastically._

_“Can you show me?”_

***

“Nice night.”

Skye sat up sharply, looking behind her. Sure enough, there was Coulson, dressed in his pants and sweater from the night before. He wore his coat, but it was unbuttoned.

 _He’ll freeze like that_ , she thought, pulling her own coat around her tighter. The night was clear, but cold on the roof of the Playground, much colder than that night she brought Cal out.

“How did you know I was here?” She asked instead, not wanting to call attention to the fact that he possibly was unable to do the coat on his own. Walking on eggshells was not Skye’s preferred method of dealing with things, but maybe she hadn’t been careful enough?

“It took a little...effort,” Coulson admitted, walking over to where she sat. Standing at the edge of the blanket she had laid out, he looked down at her, a bit guilty. “May told me you took Cal out here when he was at the Playground.”

Skye raised her eyebrows. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you guys knew, but I guess I  hoped I had a little more authority with our agents.” Looking down at her gloved hands, she smiled ruefully. “Of course, it makes sense they’d run to Agent May when the Inhuman and her crazy father went on an adventure.”

Surprisingly, Coulson moved to sit next to her, albeit a bit awkwardly. But eventually he sat down with a sigh. “Why here?”

_So we’re just gonna...okay._

“Cal’s kind of an astronomy buff,” she told Coulson, “it was one of those things he wanted to show me as a kid, but…” She shrugged, not needing to come out and say it. What’s done was done.

“What did he tell you?” Coulson seemed genuinely interested, but he could probably look interested in an ant farm if he needed to be. So Skye decided to go with it. Maybe it was his way of apologizing, which, he didn’t necessarily need to do, but was nice all the same.

“Well,” Skye said, sighing and laying back down like she had when he found her. “We didn’t have time for much, so he gave me a rundown of the basics. North Star, Milky Way, Big Dipper and Little Dipper.” With her hand she traced the outline of the big dipper. Everyone knew those, of course, but hearing it from Cal was its own adventure. “He showed me--or at least tried to show me, Cancer,” she told Coulson. “That’s my sign, I guess. He told me my birthday.”

Her real birthday. Something she wasn’t sure she’d ever know.

“Mine too,” Coulson told her, and with a jolt she realized he had also laid down on the blanket. “Cancer, I mean.”

Skye nodded. She had known, it was in his file. His birthday anyway, as far as she knew SHIELD wasn’t into horoscopes. Who knew their birthdays were so close?

_We could have joint parties._

“Cancer is one of the hardest constellations to see,” she explained, searching the sky for it as she did. “You can try to find it with some of the brighter stars in it, but even they’re not super visible, not at this time of year.” She could feel Coulson nod next to her. “You can sometimes use the other constellations around it as a guide,” she explained, dragging her hand back up and sort of vaguely gesturing in the different directions. “Gemini to the west, Leo to the east…” She rolled her eyes. “ _Hydra_ , lurking in the south, ironically enough.” 

“Figures,” Coulson grumbled, and Skye laughed. They laid there in silence for a little bit, before he quietly spoke. “I wanted to apologize…”

“Don’t,” Skye told him, propping herself up on an elbow to look at him. “You needed time, you took it, it’s fine. That’s probably something you should be doing more often,” she joked, then winced. “Taking time off, not, you know. Feeling shitty.” Coulson just looked at her seriously though, his eyes all sad and pained and dammit, she had all day to prepare for this conversation but still didn’t feel ready for it.

“No, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have treated you like you did something wrong,” he told her. He swallowed heavily, and Skye could see that she wasn’t the only one nervous about it. Reaching over, Skye placed her hand lightly over his sling, watching him carefully to make sure she wasn’t going too far. It was risky, considering why he pushed her away in the first place, but she needed him to know.

“I wasn’t lying,” she told him quietly, once the slightly startled look on his face relaxed. “It doesn’t bother me, if that’s what you were worried about. Seriously, if you promise to never run away screaming if I forget and accidentally, I don’t know, vibrate something that shouldn’t be vibrated,” Skye wrinkled her nose-- _Oh god what if that happens?_ “I promise not to freak out over the site of an injury that saved your life. Okay?” The metaphor was flawed, probably, but seemed to be effective since it actually got a real (small) smile from him.

_Is that a smirk?_

“What?” She asked, slightly defensive, as his smirk grew. Don’t get her wrong, she was thrilled, but that face…

“I think you’re vastly underestimating how _interesting_ your abilities are,” he told her, and Skye’s eyebrows shot up.

“Well, I think _you’re_ vastly underestimating how much I want you to touch me,” she deadpanned, and Coulson’s eyes widened. _That’s right, smirky-face._

Returning his gaze to the night sky, Coulson smiled a bit bashfully. Unable to even deal with that, Skye laid back down, linking the fingers of her left hand with those of his right. He didn’t say anything, but gave her hand a little squeeze.

After a few moments, he spoke again. “It wasn’t just because of that,” he began, and Skye squeezed his hand to encourage him to keep going. “There are apparently still some things I need to work out,” he admitted, and Skye nodded.

“Well, I am definitely willing to help out with that, even if it means backing off. And, assuming you still want to do _this_ ,” she squeezed his hand again lightly, “I can be patient. Well, not super patient, but I can try.”

Feeling Coulson turn his head to face her, Skye did the same.

“I want to do this,” he whispered, almost embarrassed. Not ashamed, but like he was worried he might be revealing too much.

“I love you,” Skye replied.

_Wait._

_Wait a minute._

Skye watched his eyes widen, and she slowly became more mortified by what had come out of her mouth.

_You were supposed to say ‘I want to do this too.’_

_What the hell?_

“UM.” She stared at Coulson blankly, as if he might be able to tell her where her mind had gone. It kind of helped, in that looking at his face made her think, _Well, yeah. I wasn’t wrong._

_But maybe shouldn’t have vocalized it at this exact moment?_

“Oh,” Coulson said quietly, staring at her.

_Come on._

“Okay, let’s not pretend that’s super surprising, alright?” She sighed, sitting up and wondering if maybe they should call it a night. But she felt Coulson’s hand land between her shoulders, and he curled his fingers into her coat a bit. Turning to look at him, she saw he was actually smiling, and she let out a sigh of relief. Coulson tugged her down a bit, his eyes all crinkly and happy, and Skye leaned over to kiss him soundly, planting a hand either side of his head. He responded eagerly, his hand caressing her back before moving to her hair.

Things probably wouldn’t get as heated as they were that morning-- _It’s like, 20 degrees out_ \-- but Skye wondered if this might not be even better; freezing her ass off and making out with her man under the stars. Then his hand snuck under her shirt.

“ _Jesus Christ that’s cold_ ,” she hissed, pulling away. “It’s winter, man, where are your--glove?” In retaliation for her (possibly terrible) joke, he pressed his freezing palm to her bare lower back. Skye yelped, standing up quickly. “Got it, got it,” she breathed, reaching a hand down. “Let’s go inside and get you warmed up.”

Grinning, Coulson took her hand.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don, Skye and Coulson take a little birthday trip. Family discussions happen. Phil learns how to make a frittata.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! I really love writing Cal, even when he's not really Cal. So this was an adventure. First time really playing with established Skoulson so that was fun!

Looking out over the water Phil sighed. The lake was peaceful, just the cabin a few down from theirs occupied. Surprising, considering that the weather was perfect for the first weekend in a while. Next to him, he heard his companion groan in frustration.

“Got em all tangled up again…” Cal-- _Don_ , muttered, fiddling with the fishing line he had, naturally, tangled up in knots. Placing the rod in his lap, he looked over at Coulson, abashed. “Sorry about this Phil, I thought that fishing would be a nice surprise, but didn’t think about…” He gestured awkwardly to Coulson’s amputated arm, clearly visible in the t-shirt he’d worn.

Coulson waved away the apology. “Don’t worry about it, I don’t need two arms to enjoy a break,” he said. “Plus, this way I don’t have to toast my own marshmallows.”

Don chuckled, leaning back in his own chair on the dock. “Looks like fishing is a bust for me too,” he said, gesturing to the abandoned fishing rod he’d placed by his feet. “Hunting was never an interest of mine, too much of an animal guy,” he explained at Phil’s questioning look. “If it weren’t for grocery stores I’d be a failure at providing for my family it seems.”

“There’s always gathering,” Coulson said good-naturedly, but inwardly hoping to steer the conversation away from there.

Don, however, did the work for him. “Seems like they’re getting along,” he nodded back toward the cabin, where Skye and Don’s ‘friend’ had been for a while.

“Priya’s great,” Coulson acknowledged, “Daisy likes her.” The name still sat uneasy on his tongue, but he was getting better. There had been a few embarrassing slip ups, one of which resulted in his frazzled insistence it was the beginning of a nickname, private between the two of them.

 _‘Isn’t that a car?’_ Don had asked, a furrow in his brow. Coughing after nearly choking on his beer, Coulson had tried to regain some semblance of cool.

 _‘A bird,’_ he said, recalling where he’d heard the term. _‘Also, a car,’_ he admitted reluctantly.

Luckily, Skye was a big _My Cousin Vinny_ fan, so when the nickname was brought up her smile was convincing enough.

“Good, good,” Don said. “I was worried it might be weird, you guys feeling obligated to hang out with the--” He looked back toward the house, then whispered, “ _older crowd_.”

Coulson just smiled at him oddly, wondering just how often Don forgot that he was not much younger than the two of them. But looking down at his AC/DC t-shirt (a gift from an extremely giggly Skye, _'Get it, AC?'_ ) compared to Don's more ‘age appropriate’ button up, he thought maybe he was doing his part to de-emphasize the age difference between himself and Daisy. Don wasn’t Skye’s father, as far as _he_ knew, but Coulson knew people could have strong opinions about such things. _Especially when this version of Cal wasn’t married to a woman 100+ years his senior_ , he mused.

Besides, with the occasion for the visit and his first extended meeting with Don’s girlfriend, it couldn’t hurt to maybe appear a little more youthful. Not pathetically so, but enough that it didn’t come up.

If anything, Skye had been the one cracking jokes, probably loving the embarrassed/irritated looks she’d drawn from him.

 _‘Hey Phil, we’re running to the store, roughly how many candles would you say we need? You know, combined,_ ’ she clarified, but ran out the door before he could form a response. Priya simply laughed and gave him a pat on the back, following his ‘spirited’ girlfriend out to the car. A bit cynically he wondered if he was going to walk in there to a birthday cake literally covered in candles, maybe a few sticking out of the sides. She wasn’t cruel, though he would sometimes make a big show of appearing wounded, but considering the company he would personally tone it down a bit.

Hearing the sound of bare feet slapping against wood, Coulson sat up to prepare for Skye’s approach.

“Hey,” she said, a bit out of breath from running down from the cabin. “Sorry to disrupt the whole 'traditional gender roles' thing we had going on, but we’ve come to the conclusion that you’re better at baking than me,” she admitted, leaning her crossed arms on the top of his chair.

Taking off his sunglasses, Coulson squinted up at her above his head. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

Skye shook her head, strands of hair coming out of the messy bun that, he could see now, had spots of flour in it. “You don’t want to know,” she said, then leaned down to kiss him on the nose, which wrinkled at the unexpected move. “Trade?”

Sighing dramatically Coulson stood, his back creaking annoyingly at the move from the low chair. Giving him a quick squeeze around the waist with one arm Skye tilted her face up to his, her usual, ‘Give me a kiss, I’ll wait,’ move. He obliged, leaning down to give her a quick peck on the lips. _Powdered sugar_ , he realized. It wasn’t flour and it wasn’t just in her hair; she was covered in a thin layer of powdered sugar. Focusing more on what this meant for the state of the kitchen/cake and less on the idea of just _how much_ of Skye now tasted like that, he pulled away after giving her a raised eyebrow.

Skye moved to take his seat, but not before smacking him lightly on the butt as he began to walk away. Phil gave her a scandalized look while she laughed, catching the attention of the oblivious Don.

“Ever fish, Daisy?” He asked, watching her pick up his pole and tangled line.

“Actually, I have,” she replied, and Coulson walked back to the house, smiling at the excited conversation developing behind him.

***

Skye turned in her chair to face Coulson. “Are you _kidding me_?” She asked him incredulously, but he just smiled, smug bastard he was. The cake was incredible, like something out of Martha Stewart magazine. She had panicked a bit when she realized that they wouldn’t have enough frosting for the whole cake, after she had a mix up ( _Pun completely intended,_ ) and accidentally sprayed powder sugar all over the kitchen. Poor Priya had been covered, but patient, helping her clean the mess before she ran to Phil for help.

Clearly he was the right person to call; the cake was unfrosted on the outside but stunning, neat lines of fruit and frosting between absurdly even layers of cake. He must have snuck to a nearby flower shop too, because each tier--there were _tiers_ on this thing--was accented with 2-3 fresh daisies.

_Dork._

“Wow, that is something, Phil,” Cal whistled. Coulson just shrugged, modestly.

“The flowers were Priya’s idea,” he argued, but she waved him off.

“I just told him where the flower stand was, don’t let him fool you,” she said, and Skye raised an eyebrow.

“So you’re a baker _and_ a liar.” Ignoring his attempt to completely avoid taking credit, she leaned over and grabbed his hand. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, and he gave her a bashful smile. _God, if we didn’t have company right now..._ Coulson seemed to be able to read her mind, because he made a face as soon as she thought it. Rolling her eyes -- _spoil sport-_ \- she looked back to the cake. _Wait a second._

“There aren’t any candles!”

Phil grimaced, but even then didn’t let go of her hand, so he must really love her. Cal made a little ‘ah!’ noise, and moved to go look for candles.

“Oh, I think it’s too pretty to stick candles in it, isn’t it?” Priya asked, and Skye had to admit she had a point. The candles she had bought would definitely bring the elegance of the cake down a few notches, so even though Skye saw Phil send her a grateful look --and her responding wink in return, _what are they best friends now?_ \-- she conceded the point to Priya.

Her dad’s girlfriend, who really was a lovely woman, put a hand on Cal’s ( _Don's_ , Skye reminded herself. It was hard sometimes, but this was not Cal, not really,) shoulder. Skye hoped they would stick together, especially now. She moved to the kitchen, returning with two candlesticks and tall white candles.

“These should set same right tone, hm?” As she lit the candles, Don moved over to shut off the lights in the dining room. Watching them move about the room, Skye felt a happy little ache in her chest. First birthday with her father, and it was nearly perfect. Sure, most kids didn’t wait until 28 for that, and usually, she assumed, their parents knew the kids were theirs, but with Don’s happy smiles, the frogs croaking in the otherwise quiet lake, and Coulson’s hand squeezing her own, she would take it.

Maybe she could spend her next one like this too. _Maybe_. A feeling of guilt began to sweep over her. Looking down at her and Coulson’s joined hands, she reminded herself that she needed to tell him. She thought he’d support her decision, but it was still kind of a big deal.

Once the candles were lit, Don broke into a rousing version of “Happy Birthday Phil and Daisy,” Priya joining in happily, while Skye and Coulson laughed a bit at the enthusiasm. After reaching the end of the song, Don looked at them expectantly. “Well, blow out the candles!” He insisted, and after sharing a look the two stood, blowing out the two candles as Don whispered ‘Make a wish, make a wish,’ and Priya shushed him.

After knocking around the furniture to turn the lights back on again, they ate cake and shared stories. Coulson paused to thank Cal for bringing them on the trip, and Skye nodded enthusiastically, thanking him with a hand over her mouth as she chewed. Rude, maybe, but what could she say? She was grateful. Grateful that she had been able to form this friendship with Cal in his new life, grateful that he rented a kickass lakehouse for her and Coulson’s birthdays. Grateful she had run into Priya that time by the dog park and suggested, on a whim, she visit Dr. Winslow’s clinic.

She hadn’t mentioned that detail to Coulson, yet, worried that maybe she was having _too much_ influence on Cal’s life. But he didn’t find out until later in the relationship that _Daisy_ had been the catalyst, and by that point he already seemed smitten with Priya. Still, she decided to hold that little factoid back, for now.

Once it had become late, and everyone had their fill of Coulson’s disgustingly amazing cake--seriously, not to be crass but the man had _one hand_. What would he have made with two?-- they all headed to bed. The rooms were predictably adorable, unfinished wood and quilts and folksy decorations that were simple, not kitschy.

Collapsing on the bed, Skye groaned. “Sorry, Phil. Skye is gone. She has been replaced by a monster made entirely of cake.” She got no audible reaction in return, just the quiet shuffling of his shoes being kicked off. Then the bed dipped next to her, his arm wrapping around her waist.

“I told you, if the third piece was for my benefit, you didn’t need to try so hard. You liked it. I believed you.”

Skye rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that wasn’t for you,” she retorted, and the puff of air by her ear was evidence of a laugh. “Well pal, it looks like you’re going to have to do all the work tonight, I can’t move,” she sighed, and he snorted behind her.

“As appealing as that sounds,” he drawled, scooting both of them up so their heads were actually on the pillows, “I think I’m going to take a pass on lazy sex with a food-comatose woman.”

Skye laughed, but changed to a pout. “You think I’m hideous,” she sighed, rubbing a hand over her bloated stomach. “A disgusting glutton.”

“Oh yeah, you’re pretty gross,” he said tiredly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. He made a surprised noise. “You taste like _frosting_ ,” he said, and Skye grinned suggestively.

“Yeah? Change your mind?”

He seemed to think about it, pressing his lips to a different spot, before pulling away.

_Is that…_

“You’re _yawning_ ,” she accused, turning around to face him. His face was guilty.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m an--”

“Don’t even say you’re old,” she warned, and he pursed his lips. “You know, Cal and Priya are probably doing it right now.”

“Skye,” he said, aghast.

“Oh come on, you’re not a quaker,” Skye replied, moving in closer to his chest so he could wrap both arms around her, basically pulling her on top of him. At the motion, she groaned. “Yeah, okay, maybe not the sexiest time after all.”

Loosening his hold, Phil looked at her. “Are you going to be sick?” Skye shook her head, but returned to the much safer spooning position.

“Hopefully not. Here,” she suggested, grabbing his hand and placing it on her stomach. As a kid, she found that rubbing her own belly helped with stomachaches, so what good fortune she now had someone else to do it. “Help soothe my foodbaby.” But then Skye felt him tense behind her, and she winced. “Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? Totally weird.”

Coulson didn’t say anything, but after a brief pause-- _Probably wondering ‘what the fuck, Skye?’_ \-- his hand began to move, gently soothing her stomach. It felt better, but also immensely awkward and kind of terrifying. She just went _there_ , albeit unintentionally. Now her brain was _there_ , putting all these weird images in her head, not the least of which being the insane idea of her pregnant, which, bizarre.

Skye wasn’t baby crazy. She wasn’t even _wedding_ crazy. _Oh god now I’m thinking about weddings._

Nothing could throw a former foster kid into a bigger panic than family and marriage talk, which Coulson seemed to sense because his hand stopped moving.

“Skye.”

“Yes?”

“Relax.”

Skye took a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah, sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he murmured, “we’re fine.”

She took another breath. “I just-- I’m not...that’s like, the furthest thing from my mind,” Skye said, grimacing even as she said it. “Not that it’s like, terrible, but--”

“Skye,” Coulson sighed again, his hand moving up to comb through her hair. “Last week we tried to make nice with a purple Inhuman with claws and bat wings. And it went _poorly_. I get it.”

Skye nodded. Sure, she wasn’t a 22-year-old, living out of a van and barely getting by anymore. She was almost 30-- _When did that happen, seriously?_ \--but her lifestyle was no more conducive to ‘settling down’ than before. Babies rarely, if ever, crossed her mind. _But…_

“Does that bother you?” She closed one eye, as if she could suddenly pretend to be asleep if she had to.

“I love dodging angry powered people with spiky tails,” he said thoughtfully, and Skye smiled, rolling her eyes.

“Fine, fine. I just wasn’t sure, since you’re--”

“If you make a comment about my age I’m divorcing you,” Coulson muttered, and Skye scoffed.

“We’re not married.”

“Well then you’re fired, pack your bags.” With that he actually had the gall to roll away from her, taking some serious quilt real estate with him. “I’ll tell Cal you left me for a guy with two hands and great hair.”

_Cal._

“About that,” Skye began, and Phil turned back to face her.

***

“Morning,” Coulson called out to Don, who was standing in front of the stove.

“Oh, morning Phil!” He replied cheerily. “Sorry, I’m a little preoccupied, ever make a frittata?”

“I haven’t,” Coulson admitted, moving closer to see what he was doing. While he considered himself a foodie, and was no stranger to a kitchen, breakfast wasn’t really in his wheelhouse. Once he learned how to make French toast from a friend’s mother. If it seemed like his own mom was having a rough morning, he made stacks of the eggy bread to cheer her up. He wasn’t sure if she had actually enjoyed it, or just liked the entertainment of him trying so hard, but it seemed to work. Other than that he was a cereal kid, then as he got older he started to skip breakfast in lieu of coffee. Not the healthiest diet, but everyone at the academy had their habits and his could have been worse.

“It’s a lot easier than you’d think, you just have to pay attention,” he directed, and Coulson watched as Don went through the steps, explaining what he was doing. When the pan went in the oven, Don let out a breath and set the timer. “So, Daisy told me about your good news,” he began, and Phil nodded.

 _Good thing she told me the news too_ , he thought, wondering how this would have worked going into the conversation blind.

“Congratulations. San Fran, huh? Beautiful place, never been.”

“Thank you. There are worse places I could have been transferred, and she’ll do great in Silicon Valley, of course.”

He knew it was hard for Skye, making that decision, but he thought it was a good one. Keeping up visits with Don was nice, but could be difficult when faced with long missions. Absences could become hard to explain, injuries even more so, so they had been avoiding Wisconsin completely after particularly rough assignments.

Plus, Priya had apparently passed the test. They were leaving him in good hands.

“We’ll let you know next time we’re in town,” Coulson told him warmly, and Don smiled.

“Please, do. If it’s around the holidays you can meet Priya’s son. He’s good with computers, so I won’t mess anything up.” He grinned.

Phil was happy he seemed happy, and happy that Skye had managed to have an _almost_ relationship with her father. But it also highlighted what she had lost. _Almost_ wasn’t quite it. She explained it the night before, that she was thrilled Cal had a life. But she, _Daisy the IT consultant_ , wasn’t really part of it.

He told her she was making the right choice, that this was best for everyone. And they really would visit.

Just not as often.

“So, big move, bigger apartment. Any plans to capitalize on that?” Don asked innocently, and Phil raised an eyebrow. “A house is not a home without a pet,” he clarified.

Sighing, Coulson shrugged. “We’ll see. Maybe once we get settled down.”

Cal smiled.


End file.
